


Second Best

by itchyfingers



Series: Richard and Layla [5]
Category: Richard Armitage - Fandom
Genre: F/M, I'm apologizing in advance, So much angst, like seriously, oh my, yelling and swearing and throwing things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-17
Updated: 2013-10-30
Packaged: 2017-12-29 17:24:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1008071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itchyfingers/pseuds/itchyfingers





	1. Chapter 1

Layla rushed in the door and dropped her purse on the table. She hopped on one foot, trying to get her shoe off. “I know I’m late. Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll be ready to go.”

There was no response.

She stopped in her dash towards her closet and looked into the darkened living room. Richard was sitting in his chair, elbows resting on his knees, a glass of whiskey in one hand, the other dangling between his thighs. “Darling, is everything alright?”

He looked up at her and took a long drink of the whiskey.

“What’s going on?” She crossed the living room and turned on the lamp next to his seat. His eyes were opaque and bloodshot. “What happened?” Nausea roiled in her stomach and she prayed that it wasn’t his mother that had died.

He slumped into the chair, his head falling back so he was staring at the ceiling. “You know how my agent called this morning and said he needed to see me?”

“Yes.” She brushed his hair back from his forehead and left her hand sitting on his head as she let out a sigh of relief.  At least it wasn’t his mother. “You said you thought it was about contract negotiations for that new part.”

“It wasn’t.” He took another drink of the whiskey, leaving nothing but amber drops glistening in the bottom of his glass.

“Well, what was it?”

He gestured with his chin to a pile of papers sitting on the dining table. Her heart pounded in her chest as she walked over to the table and looked down at the array of documents. She skimmed over them and then her eyes stopped. Her hand shaking, she picked up the thickest one, backed in the blue of a legal order. She read through the first paragraph and turned to Richard.

“This is an early Halloween prank, right?”

He shook his head, not looking at her. “I wish it was.”

“Could it be yours?”

“He. He’s about a year old. And yes. It could be. I mean, we used birth control, but you know how well that works.”

Her laugh had the razor edge of hysteria to it. “Your sperm needs to be studied. It’s got some magical quality to it or something.” She placed the order suing for child support back on the table and saw the corner of a photo sticking out from amidst the other pages scattered across the slate surface. She pulled it out and held it carefully between her thumb and index finger. Dark hair, bright blue eyes, chubby baby cheeks, two bottom teeth showing in a slobbery grin. The coloring was right, but otherwise it just looked like a generic baby to her. She put it back under the stack of papers. “So, what are you going to do?”

He slowly stood up and walked over to her. “Well, the first step is to establish paternity. I gave a DNA sample, but it takes two to three weeks to get that back.”

She looked up at him, noticing the slack expression and the lines that hadn’t been there this morning when she had kissed him goodbye. “That long? I thought it was a few hours.”

He chuckled. “Apparently everything you see on television isn’t real.”

She grabbed a glass off of the console table and poured herself a whiskey from the bottle Richard had left open. “And then if it is? What is she asking for?”

“Financial support.”

“Well, we can afford that.”

Richard poured himself another drink and took a swallow before he spoke again. He stared at his drink rather than looking at Layla. “And three consecutive months a year where I’m in New Zealand with her and the child, until he’s old enough to travel by himself and then additional time between work projects. She wants me there for Christmas.”

Layla bit back her initial  _oh hell to the no_  and took a deep breath, her hand clenching around the heavy glass in her hand. “And where am I during this time?” she asked, carefully.

He didn’t answer.

Layla nodded and stared at the floor for a moment, trying to force her muscles to relax. She could feel each individual fibre in her body knotting with anger and no amount of yoga breathing was going to help with the rage turning her blood into acid. “Well, will you make it back in time for our wedding or should I postpone it until it’s more convenient for your baby mama?”

“Don’t,” he stopped and rubbed at his temples, “don’t call her that.”

Her nails left crescent moons in her palm. “What should I call her then?”

“Her name is Irene.”

“Fine.” She forced herself to smile to keep from screaming. “Should I send Irene and…what’s the kid’s name?”

His hand covered his eyes. “Joshua.”

This had to be a joke. The absolute worst joke in the history of the world. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“I wish I was.”

She swallowed, feeling the muscles in her neck tightening all the way up to her ears. “Right.”  She took a deep breath again and poured herself another drink. “Should I send Irene and Joshua a wedding invitation? We can make an exception to the no kids rule for your own.”

He touched her arm, his fingers wrapping around the bare skin. “Please, Layla, don’t be like this.”

“Be like what?”

“I didn’t do this on purpose. I’m not trying to fuck up our wedding.”

“I know, it’s just,” she swallowed back the angry tears that were fighting their way to the surface, “are you moving to New Zealand? Like, if that child is yours, what are you going to do? Because, like, what am I supposed to do if you’re there? I mean, I know it’s not about me, but what about us?”

“We’ll figure it out.” He stroked her arm, trying to be reassuring, but she felt patronized and pulled away from him, walking back into the living room.

“This isn’t a problem set in maths, Richard. I’ve seen your schedule for the next year; I know how busy you’re going to be. If you’re going to be in New Zealand for three straight months, you’re going to have to drop out of at least one project. And then when am I supposed to see you? I can’t take leave for three months of every year, not to mention I doubt Irene wants me hanging about her kid, being the evil step-mother and all.”

Richard leaned against the dining table, letting her pace. “I didn’t agree to moving to New Zealand for three months; I haven’t agreed to anything yet. But if he’s my son, I will be involved in his life.”

“And how are you going to do that? Jaunt down to New Zealand for the weekend, take him out to a rugby match, pop back up on Monday and off to work for another ten weeks on location? When am I going to see you?”

He put his drink down next to him and crossed his arms across his chest. “What would you have me do? Move him and his mum to London to make it easy on you?”

“Yes. Actually. And not just easy on me; easier on us.” She hurried back to him, resting her hands against his forearm. “I mean, you’d get to see him more often; it wouldn’t interrupt your filming schedule as much. We’re already looking at houses with bedrooms for kids. He could have his own bedroom. Them moving here is much more reasonable than you taking off to the backside of beyond for three months plus every year.”

“She’s a ski instructor, Layla. She wouldn’t have a job in London.”

Layla blinked and stepped back. “You met her skiing?”

“Yes.”

She walked away from him, forcing herself to calm down before she responded. Finally, she quietly said, “We’re not going skiing for our honeymoon.”

He pushed off the table and stepped towards her. “We don’t even know if the child is mine yet and you’re cancelling our honeymoon?”

Layla put out her hand, stopping him where he was. “I’m not cancelling it. I’m just saying that I don’t want to spend my honeymoon wondering if you were doing the same things with her that you’re doing with me.”

“So now I’m not allowed to do anything that I’ve done with past girlfriends on our honeymoon?” He smirked, that one eyebrow raised. “Getting you pregnant is going to be difficult then.”

She hurled her glass at him and he dodged, letting it shatter against the wall behind him. The shards hit the floor with a crackling sound, accompanied by the slow trickle of whiskey down the wall.

The smirk faded. “Feel better now?” he said into the silence that followed.

“A little bit, yeah.”

“Don’t you  _ever_  throw something at me again.”  His jaw jutted forward and every tendon and vein in his neck stood out in stark relief against his throat. The room felt twenty degrees colder and goose bumps stood out against Layla’s skin. She turned and walked out of the living room, grabbed her purse and shoes and walked out the front door.


	2. Chapter 2

Richard fought the urge to throw his own drink at the wall as the door slammed behind Layla. He knew she would be back. They both needed some space right now to calm down and she still had a tendency to leave when things got heated to give herself a physical reminder that she was safe. He fished the picture of the child out of the stack of papers and stared it at some more, searching for any indication that the child bore some mark of his parentage in his face, but again, he couldn’t find anything to reassure himself one way or another.

He sat back down in chair, whiskey in hand, and picked up his mobile off of the table next to him. Thumbing through his contacts, he found Irene’s number and, after hesitating for a moment, called her. It rang three times before there was an answer.

“Hello?”

She sounded tired or ill even in that one word and he wondered if he had woken her. “Irene.”

“Richard.” She sighed softly. “I wondered when I was going to hear from you.”

“There are easier ways to get in touch.” He set his glass down before he dropped it or threw it. “Damn it, why didn’t you just call me yourself?”

“I didn’t know how to call after this much time.”

The muscle in his jaw was twitching and he rubbed at it. “You pick up the phone and push the button, Ree. Did you get rid of my number?”

“No.”

She was so quiet. She had never been this subdued before, though he could understand the change considering the different circumstances. “Then why now? Why keep me from my kid and then spring him on me now?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Well, having a child tends to complicate things.” He took a drink. He wasn’t nearly drunk enough to be dealing with this. He wasn’t sure how buzzed you had to be to deal with something like this, but he knew he wasn’t there yet.

“It was my decision to keep the baby and I didn’t want you to feel like you were being trapped by him or by me. We’re both adults and I knew it was just a friends with benefits deal and you were already back in London by the time I found out.”

“So what changed? Why now?”

She didn’t respond for a long time but he waited. He knew her well enough to know that something major had to be going on. “I’ve got cancer.”

His mouth fell open. No wonder she sounded so tired and ill. She was. “God, Ree, I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes life throws you a curveball.” He heard the faint whisper of a laugh.

“How bad is it?”

“Fifty percent chance I make it five years.”

Shit. Flip a coin for your life. “That’s not horrible,” he tried to reassure her.

“It’s not that great either. I started chemo a few weeks ago and it’s even worse than I had feared. I just want my son to know his father before he loses his mum, you know? To make the transition easier on him.”

Richard slumped back in his chair as the immensity of the situation continued to unfold before him. “And that’s why you need me to come to New Zealand. You’ll be too sick to travel.”

“And I don’t want to lose any time with my baby.”

He could hear her choking back tears. Richard sighed and shoved his hand through his hair. “Fuck it all, Ree. This is worse than you shoving me down black diamonds without any warning.”

“I know. And I’m sorry. I would never have disturbed you if it wasn’t necessary.”

He blew out a huge breath and rubbed his forehead, trying to get the tightness to relax. “And if you survive are you going to try and shove me out again? You can’t make me give him up now that I know about him. Not once you’ve let me in to his life.”

“I know, and I won’t.”

Richard stood up and started pacing the room. He had been trying to figure out how to ask the next question since he had been presented with the request to establish paternity by his agent, who had looked unprofessionally pale and concerned. “I submitted a DNA sample. It will take two weeks before we get any results back so I’m just going to cut to the chase. How sure are you he’s mine?”

“Eighty percent? There was a guest at the lodge that I had sex with the night before you came up for that last weekend, but I think that he was too soon in my cycle.”

He sighed, almost wishing that she was positive it was his just to get out of the purgatory of waiting for test results. “I’m engaged, Ree. I won’t agree to anything until paternity is established, and I can’t agree to anything without Layla’s approval. It wouldn’t be fair to her.”

“I understand, and I’m so sorry for dumping this on you. And on her.”

“I’ll call you in a few weeks once the results come back, alright?”

“That sounds like a good plan.” She took a deep breath. “I really am sorry, Rich.”

“I know. And I hope the doctors fix all this for you. Do you need anything?”

“No. I’ve got my family here and the doctors are excellent.”

He nodded, biting his bottom lip, wondering if there was something else he should say. “Alright. I’ll talk to you in a few weeks then.”

Richard set the phone down on the table next to the court order and the photo. He stared at the baby’s face for a minute and then swept everything off the table as he roared, every muscle and tendon straining with the anger he could no longer control. His hand hit the vase of flowers and knocked it over, pomegranate dahlias spilling in a flood of water across the slate surface. The vase rolled and fell over the edge of the table and he lunged for it, grabbing it an instant before it hit the floor. He carefully restored the vase to its place in the center of the table and then he braced his hands against the edge of the surface, bowed his head, and wept.


	3. Chapter 3

Layla stood in the empty church, watching the rows of flickering candles on the altar. It was strange how familiar it looked considering she had never stepped foot in this church before but the candles had always been her favorite part of church anyway. The pomp and ceremony of a full mass had never really appealed to her, but she had always been mesmerized by the never-ending light of the prayers candles. She picked up a match from the box and lit it from one of the candles on the table, one that was almost completely consumed. The sudden flare of light and the crackle of the match catching hypnotized her and she almost let it burn down to her fingers before she lit a new candle.

She knew she was supposed to say a prayer now. Words slipped through her mind, old familiar words,

Our Father, who art in Heaven, Hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth

She stopped. Was this His will? Did he have a will? Did he even exist at all? And if he did have a will, and it was his will, why would he do this? She finally had something good and happy and right and all hers, and now she was expected to share it. Again. And not just share, but let somebody else go first. Again.

Layla was used to not being the first to do anything. Two older sisters and two older brothers meant her parents had seen it all by the time they got to her. And then a brother and a sister after meant that she didn’t get to be the baby either. She was a middle. Hand me down clothes and ‘oh, you look just like your sister. Do you have her talent at…’ and being known as ‘one of the O’Connoll girls,’ like she didn’t have a name of her own.

And now she was going to get a hand-me-down baby.

Layla stared at the candle she had lit wondering how selfish it would be to pray that the baby wasn’t Richard’s. It would be selfish, she knew, to put her own wants above that of the child’s, because Richard would be a wonderful father, but  _she_  wanted to be the one to give him a baby, not some women he had dated? been in love with? She didn’t even know. It obviously wasn’t a one night stand, not from the way he had reacted to her calling the woman a baby mama.

She prayed. For the first time since she had prayed to God not to let Joshua kill her in that stairwell, she found herself uttering a simple prayer. “Please, God,” and she stopped. What was she supposed to ask for? Why would he listen now after so many years of her ignoring everything he said? Or at least what her mother had told her he said. She had discovered quite quickly that the one sure way to get her parents attention was to disobey. She had become the quintessential naughty Catholic school girl.

That had worked for a while until she realized it was just another way of letting her parents run her life. Then she had spent a summer locked in her bedroom figuring out how she was going to get out of the town and the life that didn’t fit, and create a life of her own. She had emerged with a plan, to do lists, and a vastly changed personality. Her parents had approved of her suddenly improved study habits, but every Sunday had been a fight over going to mass. Sometimes she won, sometimes they did.

It had been two years of fighting over her plans though. Two years of her mother telling her that she didn’t need to go to university to get a husband, two years of her father telling her that men didn’t like having girlfriends smarter than them. She had finally yelled back, “Does that explain why you love Mum so much?” and had gotten a resounding slap to the face. She never insulted her mother in front of her father again.  Two years of her parents telling her she was going to end up in hell for rejecting God and choosing mammon, of the nuns at her school refusing to write her recommendation letters because of her frivolous plans, of both her parents telling her that she was going to put her career second when she got married because that’s what wives do.

And she had. She’d given up an amazing opportunity. She had put her own plans second to  _their_  plans, and she hadn’t minded at all, because she knew Richard would have supported her decision and moved to New York with her if that had been what she wanted.

But now.

Now she didn’t know where she ranked. Richard would go to New Zealand to see his son. There was going to be another woman in his life. Not that she doubted his love for her, but Irene would be there too now, mother of his child, inextricably connected to him for the rest of their lives. And once they had their own children, how did Christmas work? Did they celebrate on different days? Richard would have one Christmas there with Irene and Joshua, and then another one here with her and the children? Did Joshua and Irene come here for Christmas? Were all their family dinners going to include another woman? A reminder that he had loved someone else first?

She knew other families dealt with this all the time but she had wanted her own little family, just her and Richard and then the babies when they came along. Now she was going to get slotted into someone else’s family and who knew what would happen now. Would Richard want another child right away? Would Joshua be enough for now? How much time would he be spending in New Zealand now? He had talked frequently about how much he had loved it there and how he wouldn’t mind having a home there. She hadn’t really given it much thought because there was nothing for her there for her career, but if he was going to be there frequently maybe he would buy a home. He was so generous he could see him buying a home for Irene and Joshua and then staying there with them when he went to visit. She supposed she could go as well, use up all of her leave each year so she wouldn’t be away from him for three straight months. Of course, that would mean that her and Richard wouldn’t have time to do anything just the two of them. What was she saying? It would never be just the two of them again.

Her one good thing. Her one special all-to-herself thing. The one thing that had loved her from the moment he had met her, who had healed her in so many ways, who thought she was wonderful and special and perfect just as she was, who had become her sure foundation. He was going to make all her dreams come true, and now someone else had given him his dreams. She wouldn’t be the first pregnancy he had been through, the first delivery, the first one to give him a child. She would be second. Again. And forever.

She blew out the candle she had lit and walked out of the church into the dark.


	4. Chapter 4

Layla came home to a dark house. She undid the lock and then shut the door behind her, flipping the deadbolt into place. She didn’t bother turning on a light as she put her purse on the entry table and then took off her shoes and lined them up carefully against the wall. She stepped into the living room and turned on one of the table lamps. The glass shards on the floor glimmered in the low light, still resting in a puddle of liquor. Papers were strewn across the floor and the flowers Richard had brought her the day before were scattered over the table.

And then she saw him sitting in his chair watching her from the shadows. Their eyes held each other as she undid the button and zip on her skirt while she walked across the room to him, letting it slide down her hips and fall to the floor as he held out his arms for her and she curled up in his lap. She rested her forehead against his throat, tucking her hands against her chest as he wrapped his arms around her. Regardless of the destruction around them, she felt safe here in his arms where the pain they had caused each other also found healing. A tear dropped from his jaw onto her cheek and it released her own tears, causing her body to shake with silent sobs. His arms tightened around her as his chest trembled from his own sorrow and she slid an arm around his neck, trying to give him some of the comfort he was giving her.

He pressed a damp kiss to her forehead and she lifted her face to him and he kissed her lips. The loving touch caused her to sob harder and she twisted, sliding her other arm around him as well. “We’re going to get through this together, Layla.” He cupped the back of her head with one hand as she pressed it to the crook of his neck. “I swear to you, whatever else happens, me, you, tux, white dress, New Year’s Eve. Nothing is going to change that. I promise you.”

“But what if–,” she started.

“No. No if’s. It’s me and you, New Year’s Eve. Anything else that might happen will have to happen around that, around  _us_.”

She pulled back far enough that she could see his face. Layla traced the track of one tear down his cheek with a single fingertip as she stared into his eyes. The blue had gone warm again; the pain disappeared for a moment as he looked at her. “Really?”

“Yes. You are my first priority, Layla.” He cupped her cheek and she closed her eyes as she leaned into the caress. “Even after we have babies of our own, you will still be first in my heart.”

The tears came again as the words seeped through her skin and into her soul. This time though, they were slow and steady; not the wracking sobs of heartache but the gentle tears that left peace in their wake. She curled back into him and he wrapped his arms around her, and they sat together in the low light as he took down her hair and finger combed it, wrapping the long curls around his fingers until his hand was firmly entangled in her. “I love you, Richard.” He kissed her gently on her forehead in response. “You are my first and my always. I can’t stand the thought of losing you to her.”

“Sweetness.” He kissed her again. “You will never lose me to her. I was never hers to begin with.”

“But she’s given you a child. What if I can’t?”

He tipped her face up so he could look at her. “She  _might_ have given me a child. And even if you can’t have a child, that wouldn’t change anything. I am buried too deep in the dream of you to ever awake.”

Layla giggled. “That’s a pretty good line. Have you been saving that up for a needed moment or did you come up with that on the spot?”

Richard chuckled and his chest rumbled under her, similar and yet so different from when it had shook from crying. “On the fly. That was a rather nice one, wasn’t it?”

She nodded. “Does it make me a horrible person for not wanting to share you?”

“I think it makes you a normal person. And,” he hesitated, “even if the baby is mine, you might not have to share for long.”

Layla sat up. “What do you mean?”

“I talked to Irene while you were out. She has cancer, Layla.” Her hand flew to her face, covering her mouth as her eyes closed against a new surge of sadness. “That’s why she’s gotten in touch. She’s not sure if she’s going to make it and she wants to make sure the child knows his dad before she dies if that’s what happens.”

“Oh god, Richard. Are you alright?” She stroked the back of her fingers against his jaw.

He rubbed against her hand and she cupped his jaw, holding him while he talked. “I’ll be fine. It’s just one more thing to process at this point. I’m so overwhelmed by everything that’s happened today that I think I’ve stopped feeling anything besides anger at the world for putting you through this, and pain that I’ve had any part in making you sad.”

“Oh, love.”  She slid her arms around his neck. “We’ll get through this together.”

His arms tightened around her waist and she shifted so she was straddling his lap. “Promise me that, Layla.” His voice broke on her name. “Promise we’ll do this together, regardless of what happens.”

“I promise you, Richard. Always together.”

He stood, shifting one hand to her bum to support her weight and she wrapped her legs around his waist. His mouth sought hers as he carried her to their room, leaving the mess and destruction behind them and seeking out the peace and serenity of each other and their bed. They held each other tightly, soft kisses and long touches, moving together as they removed clothing and stroked skin and Layla took Richard deep within her, giving him the comfort he sought and the knowledge that she was still his. He murmured words of love in her ear as she clung to him, cradling him against her, rocking him like a boat on the ocean as the waves of pleasure and need and sadness swept through them. Tears were on both of their faces as she pushed him onto his back and showed him how much she loved him with every roll of her hips and each nail mark she left on his chest. Eventually he rolled her back over and he set to making her come undone beneath him. His mouth on her neck and chest and breasts, thumb on her clit, arm under her knee; everything he had learned about her in their months together he brought to her tonight and when she came she couldn’t even call his name. After though; after he had joined her in exploding with pleasure, after he had gathered her in his arms, after they could both breathe again without straining for each molecule of oxygen, she said his name.

“I love you, Richard.”

“I love you too, my sweet Layla.”

They held each other through the night, arms and legs wrapped around each other as they sought and gave comfort even in sleep. Even unconscious, they would face the darkness together.


	5. Part Five

Layla’s fingers tightened around Richard’s as they walked up the cobblestone path to the old church. He stopped and pulled her over to the side so they wouldn’t block the people behind them and tilted her face up to look at him. “You don’t have to do this. We can go home.”

She forced a smile. “No. I’m fine. I may drink heavily before this weekend is over, but I’ll get through it. First Communion is a big deal.”

Richard was looking forward to this even less than Layla. All six of her siblings would be there and this was his first time meeting them. James, Rachel, Eve, Peter, Layla, Simon, and Deborah. He could name them in order; the next test was to put names to faces. They had timed their arrival so they wouldn’t have to socialize beforehand and slid into a pew right before the service started. Layla sat quietly, her eyes focused on her lap. Richard put his arm around her shoulders and held one of her hands. She’d been abnormally quiet on the almost two hour drive up here and her normally effervescent personality had gone flat.

Layla let the words of the service slide off of her like she had been lacquered. Even with Richard holding her, she still feels cold and alone. This is the church she grew up in, the church she fought with her parents about attending. It’s even the same priest conducting the service, greyer now obviously, as conducted her First Communion. She tries to pray as she sits in the colored light stained by the windows, but she can’t make the words form into sentences.  

Finally it’s all over and she and Richard step outside. Their plan to quickly head to the car is foiled by loud greetings from several of her friends from school who are there, most for First Communion of their own children. To most people Layla looks perfectly at ease, cheek kissing and hugging and commenting on how beautiful the children are, but Richard can feel the muscles of her back tightening under his hand, and when she walks, her normally graceful movements are stiff. Then he meets her family. Everyone is separating into different groups around each of the children there for First Communion and he gets introduced to all of her siblings and their spouses and at least a dozen children. Her siblings all look like her, tall, lanky, freckled and various shades of ginger. It is no help in telling them apart. When their spouses are added to the equation he gets a feeling for how Peter must have felt with all the dwarves. He fields questions about his career and how they met and plans for the wedding and Layla finally steps in and tells them to give him some room to breathe, they’ll have more time to talk later. They get roped into pictures with all of her siblings and then family pictures with all of the grandchildren, and by the time everything is done with, she looks different than normal. He stands alone and studies her as she is talking to her mother, and he realizes she has the same tense cowered stance as when she confronted Joshua. She’s waiting to be attacked, and resigned to it happening.

He steps in then, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pressing a kiss to her temple and she sags against him, just enough where he notices it but no one else would. He rests his mouth against her hair as she finishes talking to her mother and then takes her to the car before anyone else can intercept her. “Say the word and we go back to London, darling.”

She lets her head fall back against the seat in the car. “Do you think Mum will let me sit at the kid’s table during dinner?”

Richard chuckles. “Somehow I doubt it. Besides, I don’t think there’s wine at the kid’s table.”

“Oh, good point. Wine might make this whole thing bearable. Let’s go eat.”

They take their time heading to her parents’ house with Layla pointing out places from her memories. She’s actually smiling as she talks and some of her normal vivacity returns but he watches it fade as he parks in front of the house.

They have perfect timing. Dinner is just being put on the table as they enter, and Richard is attacked by children wanting to know if he was really a dwarf in  _The Hobbit_  and how is that possible when he is so tall and can they have a piggy back ride and does he have a sword and can they touch it? Layla laughs at the babble of voices and shoos them into the living room where the furniture has been shoved back so that a long table can be set up in the center and chairs gathered around. She helps the littlest ones up into their chairs as mothers move back and forth making sure that everyone has their food cut up and not too much milk in their cups. Eventually she head into the dining room and takes a place at the table with the adult members of her family and Richard sits beside her. Her hand seeks out his under the table and he squeezes it. She doesn’t let go of him through the grace that is offered and only lets go when Eve hands her a platter of roasted vegetables.

The food is good and plentiful and there are several bottles of wine getting passed around and Layla starts to relax next to him as her siblings seem to embrace him as an addition to the family. He’s fielding questions from everyone, the new one of course being the most interesting. Layla answers some of them just to give Richard time to eat and to give him a break. She knows how much he hates being the center of attention and tries to shield him as much as possible.

Appetites are satisfied and the sound of silver on china slows down as everyone turns more to their wine glasses than their plates. From the other end of the table, Layla’s mother asks, “So, are you two planning on staying for tomorrow?”

It is a bank holiday and Layla’s mum’s birthday. “Of course,” Layla answers.

“Well, then I’ll just rearrange some of the rooms.”

Layla grabs Richard’s hand under the table. “There’s no need, Mother; we booked a hotel room.”

Her mum puts her wine glass down as her father chokes on the bite of potatoes he had just put in his mouth and all of her siblings freeze, except for their eyes which dart back and forth between their sister and their mum. “Why would you do that? There’s plenty of room here.” Her nostrils are flaring even though she is trying to be polite in front of company.

Layla takes a deep breath. “Because I prefer to sleep with Richard than alone.”

Her mum folds the cloth napkin that has been in her lap and places it on her plate. “That’s not appropriate talk in this house.”

“Well, excuse me for being honest.” She picks up her wine glass and empties it.

Her mother’s face sours. “And that’s quite enough wine for the evening, young lady.”

Layla reaches for one of the bottles of wine sitting on the table and drinks directly out of it before she pours the rest of it into her glass.

“Do you enjoy being such a rude, ungrateful child?”

“Mother, lay off of her.”

Layla’s eyebrows crawl into her hair as she looks at James in surprise. So does everyone else at the table.

Mum’s mouth moves silently for a few seconds before she remembers how to make words come out again. “Excuse me son, what did you say to me?”

“I said, lay off of her. You’ve always been stricter on her than everyone else. Nothing she ever did was good enough for you. You’ve been horrid to her for years and now you complain that she doesn’t love you like a faithful daughter should.”

Her father waves a finger in James’s face. “How dare you talk to your mother like that?” His face is ruddy, but Layla isn’t sure how much of that is anger, and how much of it is the three glasses of Jameson he’s had during dinner.

James slams both of his hands down on the table and all the dishes rattle. “Because I’m sick of the way this family lies about everything to keep a good face on for the public, no matter the damage it causes to the ones we should care about the most.”

Rachel stands and closes the French doors, shutting out the kids in the living room from the storm brewing in the dining room. “We do not lie in this family. We keep the commandments, James.”

“Really? Because I was born eight months after you and Dad married, and I was over nine pounds. Premature babies aren’t nine pounds, Mum.”

The vein in Mum’s forehead starts throbbing and her mouth purses like a drawstring has pulled it shut. “All of my babies were big.”

“Except for Layla,” James points out. “She was only six pounds.”

“She’s always been thin.”

“You tell her or I will.”

Layla looks back and forth between James and her mother who are glaring at each other. “Tell me what?”

“Why the rest of us have Biblical names and you’re named Layla.” He doesn’t look at her.

“It’s… it’s because it’s Mum’s favorite song.”

Richard knows what is coming. He can feel it in the room like the dropping of barometric pressure before a storm and he wants to pick her up and shield her from what is about to happen but he knows he can’t. That he shouldn’t. He takes her hand and places it on his thigh, and closes his hand over it.

“Really?” James looks at her and her mum looks down at her lap. “Layla, have you ever heard her sing it? Have you ever heard her sing anything from Clapton? A song about sex and infidelity? Our mum?”

Richard can see the comprehension dawning in her eyes. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying she came home with a baby one day, but she hadn’t been pregnant.”

Layla looks at her mum. “Is that true?”

Her mum refuses to answer and her father finally nods.

“Then… I’m adopted? But, I look so much like you.”

Her father finishes his fourth glass of Jameson and puts the glass down carefully on the table. “It’s because you’re mine, but not your mother’s.”

Richard looks around the table, at almost identical expressions of shock and disbelief on all of her siblings’ faces, and all of the spouses are steadfastly looking at their plates. “You cheated on Mum?”

He nods.

“With who?”

Her mum finds her voice again. “My sister.” She sounds venomous.

“With Aunt Pattie? You cheated on Mum with Aunt Pattie?”

“The little slut.” The word slurs from her mouth and Layla looks at her in horror. Her mum swallows another mouthful of wine and waves the glass at her husband. “She always wanted what I had. And she always got it. The one thing I had all to myself, my husband, and she got him too.”

The words pierce Layla. They sound so much like what she had said herself almost a week before. “But, why didn’t she just keep me?”

Neither of her parents answer and James finally steps in. “Because that would make the family look bad. An unmarried mother in the Brennan family? Absolutely not. So she went away and had you and when she came back, her parents forced her to give the baby to Mum and Dad to raise. Or at least that’s what I’ve surmised.”

“I told my parents that she was not going to raise my husband’s child. I wanted him to provide for her the way a father should, even if that child was not my own, and I wanted him to have a daily reminder of his sin. I gave him everything and he cheated on me with that whore.”

“So that’s what I am to you? A walking reminder that Dad cheated on you?”

Mum’s lip curves in a sneer. “And you turned out just like her. From the time you turned twelve the boys flocked around you like bees to a flower. You flirted and teased your way through half of the boys in the parish and were a little slut just like her.”

Richard slams a hand down on the table. “No, don’t you ever call her names.”

“I’m just speaking the truth. Do you know how many boys she did unholy things with?”

“I don’t care.” He shoves his chair back and stands, pointing a finger at Layla’s mum. “You should be ashamed for the way you treated her. For the way you still treat her.” He holds his hand out to Layla who places her trembling fingers in it. “We’re leaving and I don’t think we’ll be coming back tomorrow. Or ever. Not if this is what she can expect to be faced with. I thought she was needlessly worrying about this visit, but it’s been so much more hateful than I could even have imagined.”

Layla gets up and concentrates on putting one foot in front of the other as she makes her way around the table and out of the dining room. She can’t bear to look anyone in the eyes. She stops when James stands up, his chair scraping across the floor loud in the silence. “I’m sorry, Layla. I thought you should know.”

“How long have you known?”

“I put all the pieces together when I was about thirteen or fourteen. A little boy at the park brought you a flower, and Mum said, ‘She’s just like her mother,’ and the way she said it I knew she wasn’t talking about herself, and that was what got me thinking.”

She leans against Richard. “Thank you. It hurts, but I think in the long run it will be the right thing.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to stick around for the next round of fireworks? I’m about to tell Mum and Dad that Mary and I are getting a divorce because I’m gay.”

“You’re what?” his mother shrieks and James grimaces.

“Get out of here; you’ve dealt with enough tonight.”

Layla pulls him out of the dining room and into the kitchen as her mother continues on in hysterics and her father pours himself another drink. “We’re staying at the Marriott. You should come over later. Get sloshed with me. We can trade stories of how we’ve disappointed our parents.” She’s trying to keep on a brave face but her voice cracks on the word parents.

James takes her face in both hands. “I remember Aunt Pattie. She would never have been disappointed in you, darling.”

“Sometime when I’m not on the verge of tears, you’ll have to tell me about her.”

He kisses her on her forehead. “I’ll ring you if I decide to come over. Of course, I probably will just go over to Patrick’s and tell him I finally did it.”

Layla hugs him tight. “I’m proud of you and I love you.” She kisses him on the cheek.

Richard hugs him as well. “Thank you.”

They are both silent on the drive back to the hotel and until they are in the room. Layla goes into the bathroom and sits down on the edge of the tub. She reaches for the tap but her shoulders start to shake and she lets her hand fall back down her composure dissolves. Richard sits on the bathroom floor and pulls her into his lap and holds her until there are no more tears.

“I won’t do that to Joshua,” she finally whispers.

He strokes her hair back from her tear-streaked face. “You would never treat someone like that.”

“I’m just like my mum.” Pain lines crease her brow. “I hate the thought of having to share you with anyone. You’re mine! I don’t want to share! I don’t want that baby to be yours. I want to be the one who gives you your children, not someone else. I want you to myself.”

He takes her face in his hands, mimicking the action her brother had done previously. “That’s perfectly natural, darling. The difference is if Joshua is mine, you will love him. Of course your mum is mad that her husband cheated on her. Her problem is that she took it out on you. You aren’t going to spend your life punishing a child because his mother died and I’m his father.”

“Aunt Pattie killed herself when I was six months old. Do you think it was because of me?” Another tear escapes and she closes her eyes. Her nose is red and running from the tears.

He hasn’t seen her this erratic since that night in the kitchen after he had punched her ex. “It’s not your fault. Layla, look at me.” She opens her eyes and they are dull under the sheen of tears. “You are not to blame for any of this, do you hear me? What your parents – all three of them – did is not your fault.”

She burrows into his chest and he tightens his arms around her, feeling her shaking as she starts to cry again. She falls asleep this time and he manages to get to his feet without dropping her and carries her to bed. He’s taking off her shoes when she stirs.

“It’s not me she hates. It’s what I remind her of.”

“Yes.”

“My real mom doesn’t hate me.”

“No, she doesn’t.”

She smiles half-heartedly and her eyes close again. He watches her sleeping for a few minutes and then retrieves his laptop from his bag and sits down on the bed next to her. He starts researching Pattie Brennan. His wedding present to Layla will be the story of a mother who loved her.


	6. Chapter 6

Layla woke to the feel of Richard’s fingers moving through her hair and opened her eyes to see him just far enough away that he could focus on her face. “Hello.”

His hand slipped around the back of her neck and he leaned in and kissed her. “How are you feeling, sweetness?”

She rested her forehead against his. “My eyes hurt from crying but the rest of my head feels like it’s wrapped in cotton wool. Thank you for standing up for me.” She touched his cheek before stroking her fingers along his jaw and down the line of his throat. As she reached his shoulder she paused and looked down the length of his body. She giggled and lifted her eyes to his. “Why are you naked?”

“Well, you’ve had a shitty day,” he kissed her on her cheek, “and there’s this big hotel bed,” on her chin, “and I was thinking that if you add shitty day to hotel bed,” on the tip of her nose, “the answer is have lots of sex until you feel better.”

She caught his mouth with her own and their tongues brushed against each other. “You know that sex doesn’t fix everything, right?” she murmured against his lips.

“Well, yes.” He smiled and she kissed the upturned corner of his mouth. “If you broke your arm I wouldn’t try to fuck it all better, but I think my idea might at least take your mind off your worries.” He went for the spot on her neck that he knew was her weak spot.

A little moan as she closed her fingers in his hair and tilted her head to the side so he could continue. “I do like your idea, but James might be coming over.”

“He rang while you were sleeping.” He rolled over and grabbed a piece of paper from the nightstand and started to read. “Besides you being the result of an affair and him being gay, Simon’s an atheist, Peter and his friends would break into the church and get drunk on the communion wine when they were in secondary, Rachel and Matt lied about having infertility problems – they just don’t want kids – and Deborah got a tattoo of a bunch of stars on her hip and partially mooned everyone when she showed it off. Also, Eve declared that she is a feminist. Apparently that counts as a scandal in your family.”

Layla’s mouth fell increasingly open as Richard read through the list of her siblings’ peccadilloes. “James is just taking the piss, right?”

“No. Apparently James gave everyone else the courage to fess up to what they’ve been keeping from their parents.”

Layla grabbed the list from Richard’s hand and read through it again. “Is Mum dead? Did she have a heart attack?”

“She had said she was going to go lie down and your father is too intoxicated to care at this point.”

Layla closed her eyes and shook her head. “I wonder how long she’ll take to her rooms this time.”

“Does she do this often?”

She handed the list back to Richard, not bothering to open her eyes. “Only when she was highly disappointed in one of us. So yes.”

He laid down next to her and pulled her into his arms. “I can only imagine what it must have been like for you to grow up in that environment.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head as she burrowed into his side.

Richard’s fingers played through her hair as she rested against him. “Have the wedding invitations been printed yet?” she asked.

“I don’t know.”

She worried at her bottom lip. “How horrible would it be to take my parents name off of them?”

Her unexpectedly fragile voice stabbed at his heart. His arm tightened around her and he kissed the top of her head again. “I think it would be completely understandable.”

“But then it would be weird to have your parents but not my parents and your parents deserve to be on there.”

He thought for a bit. “We could put Pattie on it as your mother.”

“I’m not sure that’s really the way I want to announce this to the world. Or even if it needs to be announced at all. I think it’s enough that I know. That I know why I got treated the way I did.”

He tipped her face up so they were looking at each other. “You didn’t deserve what they put you through, sweetness.”

“I know. But I did so much because of that. It’s like I have a whole new past on one hand, but it’s exactly the same on the other. Someday, when I’m not so upset, I’ll have to go see Grandma and Grandpa and ask for stories about Pattie. No one really talked about her much because of her ‘unfortunate end.’ I thought they just meant that she killed herself – and I was twelve before I found that out – but apparently they meant me.”

He gripped her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Layla, you can’t let this be your fault. This isn’t your fault.”

“I know. It’s just so weird finding something like this out. My mother was ‘the other woman.’ Did she love my father? Did he not love her enough to leave my mum? Was it just a sex thing? What was going on that having sex with your sister’s husband seemed like a good idea? It’s a seismic shift in my past. It all looks different now. It’s going to take some time to come to terms with it and figure out how to make sense of all of it.”

He raised his brows, causing his forehead to wrinkle. “Do you want to call your therapist tomorrow?”

She snorted and tucked her head back under his chin. “I probably should. I think a professional should poke this mess a few times to help me deal with it.”

“I’ll do whatever I can, but you already saw my best idea.”

She giggled and slid her hand down his chest and cupped her hand around him. “I really like seeing your best idea. And touching it.”

He pressed her back into the bed as he kissed her and she loosely hooked her leg around his thigh. He slid his hand up her leg and under her full skirt, his fingers gripping her soft skin and pulling her closer. He was kissing down her neck when his mobile rang.

He sighed and rested his forehead on her collarbone.“That’s my agent. I should get that in case its important.”

“Go. He never calls on a Sunday evening and I’ll stay right here.”

She started unbuttoning her dress as Richard went to retrieve his mobile.

“Hello.” A moment’s pause. “Already?” He thumbed on the speaker.

Richard’s agent’s voice came through the speaker. “They’re considerably faster than the last time I did one of these.”

Layla’s fingers froze on the buttons of her bodice, leaving it half open, black and white paisley satin visible under the navy blue knit. Her eyes locked with Richard’s.

“And?” Richard asked.

“The child is not yours.”

Richard let out an explosive gust of air. “He’s not?” His hand shook as he held the phone.

“No. There’s no possibility you fathered that child.”

Richard blinked several times and then nodded. “Alright. Thank you. Go ahead and call Irene and let her know. Tell her I’ll call her tomorrow.”

“I will. You enjoy your evening.”

Richard started to smile as he walked back across the room to Layla. “I think I will.” He ended the call and tossed the phone onto the nightstand. He crawled over the bed to Layla and grabbed her, pulling her into a bruising kiss. “All yours. I’m all yours.” Her arms tightened around him, both of her hands in his hair as she kissed him back, suckling at his bottom lip.

“All mine,” she whispered as he pulled at her buttons, shoved at the fabric, fought the dress for ownership of his woman. Layla helped him get rid of the garment and he pulled down the cup of her bra, sucking the skin on the curve of her breast into his mouth, marking her once again as he had so many months before.

“And you are mine,” he whispered after he slowly released the purpled flesh and then licked it with the flat of his tongue. “All mine.”

She undid her bra and slid it off and he covered her breasts with his hands, kneading their luscious fullness. “I swear to you, Layla, you are mine and I am never sharing you. You are mine, sweetness.” His mouth closed over hers and he pushed her onto her back. His hands went to her hips, pulling down her knickers and she lifted her hips, helping him rid her of the last remnants of clothing that stood between them.

He tossed the silk aside and knelt between her legs, pushing her thighs open with his hands, his fingertips stroking along the delicate crease where her inner thigh joined with her body. “Fuck, Layla, you are so beautiful.” He speared his hands between her arse and the sheet and lifted, dipping his head to suck her clit into his mouth. Her fingers grabbed his hair as she gasped in shock and then moaned as he set to flicking the tip of his tongue against the little nub.

The touch sent her reeling and she closed her eyes, focusing on the warm friction of his tongue against her and the dig of his fingers into her arse. He was sucking her in like she was the fountain of youth and he was never going to age. He dragged his teeth against her clit as he let her go. “I’m sorry, darling, I can’t wait.” He crawled up her body and she wrapped her arms and legs around him as he settled against her. With a well practiced swivel of her hips, she brought him into perfect alignment with her body and he thrust, sinking into her in one sure movement. She tightened her legs around him, pulling him deeper as she lifted her hips.

There would be time for slow intimate love later. Right now they needed to reestablish their claim on each other, branding themselves onto each others’ souls. Richard’s kisses sanded away old layers of hurt and neglect and with every stroke of her hands across his back she established her primacy in his heart. They couldn’t talk, not even to say ‘I love you’ as they moved together. Richard’s movements were primal and Layla’s hair tangled as she rubbed against the sheets, struggling to cope with the physical and emotional onslaught of Richard’s touch and the fire in his eyes. He pinned her wrists above her head with one hand and sought out her clit with the other.

She whimpered as his fingers started circling the sensitive bud. Then he chose to speak, now that she was strung out and needy, craving more of the pleasure he had sent coursing through her veins. “You are mine, sweetness. All mine. Every millimeter of your flesh, every bit of your soul. And I am yours, Layla. All yours. Only yours. Forever and ever, sweetness. I am all yours.” He kept up the steady stream of words in her ear as he thrust into her, driving deeper with each desperate thrust of his hips. He could feel her stomach start to quiver, the muscles in her thighs go taut against his hips, her breathing grow erratic.

“Come for me, Layla. Come with me, sweetness.”

He kissed her again, and she sobbed against his mouth as she tugged at his hand. He let go of her and she clung to him, wanting to feel herself melt into him as he continued to move over her, with her, within her. “I love you, Richard,” she gasped out and he flicked his thumbnail over her clit and she shattered and the rhythmic clenching of her body around his brought him with her in a final urgent, thrust, his head thrown back as his scalding hot release pulsed into her.

She smoothed her hands over his sweat-slicked back as they held onto each other. They kept kissing, even as their breathing was labored and ragged. Soft kisses over each other’s faces mingled with long slow claiming movements of lip and tongue. “I love you, my Layla,” he murmured when he felt that he could talk again. “You will always be first in my heart.”


End file.
